


beg

by honey_wheeler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not often he’s the one in charge with Hermione. Usually she’s telling him to be patient, to keep up, to pay attention, Ron, <i>honestly</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beg

He draws it out, makes her as desperate as possible. It’s not often he’s the one in charge with Hermione. Usually she’s telling him to be patient, to keep up, to pay attention, Ron, _honestly_. She’s not telling him any of that now.

“Ron, please,” she pants, twisting against him, struggling to get closer. “ _Please_.” He holds her against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head in one of his hands, and leans back to look at her. Her shirt is unbuttoned to show lace and pale skin and a pink flush creeping from the tops of her distractingly lovely breasts to the base of her neck. Her eyes are closed and she tosses her head restlessly, fighting against his grip on her wrists, tilting her hips forward. He hitches his thigh up a little farther between hers and is rewarded by her strangled moan, his name ending on a high-pitched whimper. He likes it. So he does it again.

“Ron, I need-” She breaks off when he trails one inquisitive finger down the edge of her shirt, over the swell of her breast and under.

“You need what?”

“I need,” she pants. “I need- unnnh.” His hand has found its way under her skirt. His finger tests the elastic of her underwear, slips underneath. She’s hot, wet, so bloody wet. He can’t stop himself from curling his fingers, moving them in just the way she likes. Just the way she taught him.

“Mmm, you need?” he prompts, smiling when she huffs impatiently, eyes still closed, a frown beetling her forehead. She hitches her legs up around his waist. The movement gives him a better angle and his fingers press further into her. She whimpers, twists, looks like she might cry. He’s never been so hard in his life.

“Please, just…Merlin,” she groans. “Stop torturing me.”

“In a minute,” he says.


End file.
